


Second

by CaesariDiffidimus



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Hurt Loki, I will add more tags later, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Loki Whump, M/M, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Not Canon Compliant, Odin (Marvel)'s A+ Parenting, Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro, Thor is not bad but also is not good, frigga isnt nice sorry guys, reincarnated loki, young loki
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-10 04:30:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19899862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaesariDiffidimus/pseuds/CaesariDiffidimus
Summary: Frigga reincarnates a young version of Loki after Loki is killed, but not everyone is excited to have Loki back--in fact no one is, not even Frigga. It's been a year since his reincarnation and Asgard proves to be a dangerous place for him so Thor takes him to Midgard, and to his Avenger friends. After leaving him in their custody, it turns out they are perhaps not much safer. Things may look up later, but they're rather dreary now.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I edited as best I could, but I do not have a beta so I apologize if there are any super distracting mistakes. 
> 
> I will add relevant tags with each chapter update, BUT if you know of a relevant tag that you feel should be used, comment and let me know. I'm really bad at tagging, I can never think of any.
> 
> ***to clarify: Loki is roughly aged 17-19 in earth years.

It had been nearly a full forty-eight hours since Thor had brought a reincarnated, younger, and substantially less villainous Loki to the Avenger’s Compound—or so was told to them. Understandably, few, if any, of the Avenger’s believed him to be reincarnated at all, though he did look younger, and seem different. Conceptually, though, it was astronomical that such a thing could take place—then again it was astronomical that Loki and Thor, the gods of Norse mythology, existed at all.

“He does _look_ different—younger.” One of them had said.

“I thought all of you space Vikings had the long hair and beards thing going on.” Another had said in reference to Loki’s shorn hair.

Thor hummed disapprovingly. “An unfortunate misunderstanding. Some—uh—citizens of Asgard thought it unjust that Loki be allowed to roam freely as they roam freely. They took it upon themselves to…” he glanced down at Loki, but Loki was not looking at him, he was looking down at his feet with great interest, wringing his wrist nervously. “Show him the worth of humility,” Thor finished lamely. Loki almost let slip a sardonic smile at how Thor had worded that. In reality, five men from the village had followed Loki into the forest, beat him fiendishly, held him down, and cut his hair short so that he may resemble a slave, a station they thought better suited to him than that of a prince.

“Someone ought to.” Another muttered.

Initially they all unanimously put their collective proverbial foot down at this new Loki being on Earth much less residing at Avenger’s Compound. Thor had argued that this Loki was not a danger to Earth or any of the compound residents, this Loki was not even aware of his previous self’s wrong-doings, this Loki was inexperienced, and impressionable, and reserved, as he remembered his brother being when they were young, this Loki was just shy of his majority, and had yet to even travel outside of Asgard.

They had to at least concede on the front that Loki did indeed look much younger than the Loki of whom attacked New York, and not just in physical aesthetics, this Loki’s expression was open, but nervous, his eyes were curious, if not a touch anxious. His expression was likely wholly curious prior to the Avenger’s assembling in the rec area but anxiety and fear quickly seeped in once he saw the murderous expressions on each of their faces.

Loki’s shoulders had risen defensively in order to appear smaller, and for every looming step they took toward him, he took an unconscious one backward until Thor, who stood beside him, squeezed his shoulder non too gently. They had yelled mostly, yelled and pointed at him furiously, implicating things he didn’t remember, or didn’t understand. This is largely what had taken place on Asgard as well, which was why they were here. Loki knew he was not well liked, he never had been, even as a child, but upon Asgard one earthly year ago, he had gone to sleep only generally disliked by most, and awoken vehemently hated by all, and he had no idea why. He had asked Frigga, but her answers were aloof and unhelpful. He later asked his father, but that exchange had only added to his confusion. “Father,” he had said, and the All-Father replied: “Odin.” To which Loki frowned, not understanding. “You will call me Odin, or All-Father from now on,” Odin had said. Loki felt the cold tendrils of fear squeeze his heart. Odin had never enjoyed Loki’s company, never shown him affection, but Loki was always ensured by Frigga that the All-Father loved him because he was his son. Now it seemed his childhood fears that Odin had no love for him had come to fruition.

Thor’s large, callused hand had gripped the back of Loki’s neck, his thumb swiping up and down against his skin. He thought perhaps Thor meant it to be comforting in the hostile environment, but all it achieved was making him feel claustrophobic, like the hand would surely tighten and tighten until he couldn’t breathe. Loki hadn’t said anything since they arrived, and no one had said anything to him either. Eventually a man referred to simply as ‘Director’ had been called on a phone, his voice weary and tight sounding over the small telephonic device. Director had addressed all but Loki, and after the call they conceded in agreement with Director to let Loki stay. “Friends close, enemies closer, I guess,” one of them muttered after the call had ended. Loki frowned at that, as he couldn’t recall being their enemy—he couldn’t recall being anyone’s enemy. Thor’s friends strongly disliked his company, but even they he would not refer to as enemies.

Once it was settled that he would be staying, Thor announced that he had a great many responsibilities and must promptly return to Asgard. This had started a whole new argument. Seemingly none of them wanted the responsibility of “babysitting” the second prince. Loki had thought perhaps he should say something to placate them, to calm their nerves, that he would not make trouble, but no one had so much as acknowledged his existence, much less looked or talked to him since he arrived, so he came to the conclusion that it would unwise to make himself seen now.

One of them had heatedly exclaimed that he would leave the compound if Thor were to leave Loki here unattended, several others agreed, reiterating their debate points from before that it was not safe, that they did not feel safe with him here. Loki had felt a cold pang in his gut with every word. His face felt flushed, and he kept his eyes down as they talked, fearful of catching any of their eyes. Thor assured them that Loki had no magic as he did before, though he may be more durable than the average human, he was otherwise no different than any other mortal, he had no special abilities, and no allies in any realm, he had no reason to act against them. This seemed to placate some of them. Thor apologized profusely, but promised he would be back soon, eventually they all quieted down, perhaps realizing there was no escaping this situation.

Thor left without a word to him. He let go of his neck, bid his companions farewell and good luck, and left for the outside doors of the compound.

Once the elder prince was gone their Captain commanded two of them to take Loki to a “secure room”. He had referred to them as “Tony” and “Clint”. They both seemed to begrudge the order but followed it promptly anyway. Both men made their way over to him, their faces tight with distaste. “Move,” one of them said, but he hadn’t indicated where Loki should go, so Loki took a step backward but didn’t head in any direction. “Are you retarded, I said move!” he said through gritted teeth, shoving Loki hard in the chest. Ungracefully, Loki stumbled backward and fell. Both men smirked, their Captain gave them a reproachful glare, and looked down at Loki almost apologetically, and everyone else pretended not to have seen as they quickly slipped from the room.

They marched him to the stairs, and after descending for what felt like an eternity, they arrived at a metal door which led to a sterile smelling hallway with a concrete floor and buzzing fluorescent lights on the ceiling. There were additional metal doors on either side of the hallway, identical to the one they had just passed through. The man in front of him opened one of the doors with some sort of key card, and the man in back shoved him forward in the hall, and then shoved him violently into the room so that he nearly fell again. With both men behind him now he took a second to survey the room, and it truly only took a second because the room was small and void of all furniture and windows. The walls were painted white, the floor was natural gray concrete, and there was nothing in there, just a drain on the floor and a single fluorescent light in the ceiling. It was a cage, he thought

Loki slowly turned around to face his captors, hoping this was a test, that they wouldn’t leave him down here, that he would be able to see their faces and determine they were joking, or trying to scare him. He saw none of that reassurance, and after a moment the blond one, who looked significantly angrier than the other, lurched forward and punched him so hard in the face that Loki staggered backward and fell once more. His vision swam and before it corrected, he felt a boot connect with his face, and then again with his stomach after he fell backward, the boot met his abdomen several more times before the darker haired man called for his friend to call it quits.

He heard them leave the room, heard the door shut, the light went out, and it was pitch dark now, and he was alone. Loki turned over onto his hands and knees and slowly crawled to the corner of the small room, and curled into himself, drawing his knees up against his chest. He must have done something wrong; he’d thought, he must have otherwise why would these people hate him so much? But he’d never been to Midgard before this, he’d never even been off Asgard. His family was angry with him but he didn’t know why, Thor had a unusually short tolerance for him of late, and a quick temper to his antics and behavior, he was all but disowned by his father, kept at arm’s length by his mother, and wholly hated by all of Asgard, and apparently Midgard. What had he done? Frigga had told him he died in an accident, and that she had made a trade with the Norn’s to use a spell to reincarnate him, but if she didn’t want him why would she go through all that trouble? Nothing made sense and the blanketed dislike and rejection directed at him in the last year after his reincarnation had him feeling more self-loathing and self-destructive than ever. Maybe that’s what it was, he’d thought, maybe this is a punishment.

Frigga had told him he would be safer with Thor on Midgard, Thor had told him _‘it will be different there’_ when Loki had been reluctant to go, but it didn’t feel safer, and it didn’t feel different, it felt very much the same, or worse because at least Asgard was familiar, Asgard had been his home. Back home when ‘incidents’ would happen with courtiers, or the public, or Thor’s friends, Loki could go to his private room where there was a comfortable bed, and books, and a window which let in natural light and fresh air. Here he was alone in a cold, dark cell, so far everyone he met seemed to hate him, Thor had abandoned him, and no one had brought him food or water in what felt like days.

It had been summer in Asgard when they departed. Loki had worn soft leather leggings, a tunic, and boots, and he’d not packed anything because Thor had told him the clothes they wore on Midgard were different, and they would acquire Midgardian wear once they arrived. The thin clothing was futile comfort against the frigid temperatures in the cell. Loki had eventually pulled his arms inside of his shirt and tucked them against his bare chest. Initially he had been reluctant to do this as it made him feel more vulnerable if someone were to intrude into the cell whilst he slept, but eventually the cold won out. He sat in the corner against the wall with his knees against his chest, his arms tucked in, and his tunic pulled over his nose so that his breath might provide warmth to his hands. His fingers and toes ached from the cold but there was nothing else to be done.

However long he’d been down there, it was impossible to know, he’d spent the majority of it rifling through his memories trying to figure out what he’d done wrong, how he’d angered these people, angered Thor, angered his parents, but nothing came to mind. He briefly thought perhaps it was something he did later in life, before he was killed and subsequently reincarnated, but Frigga would have told him, would she not have? Surely, she would have informed him if he’d done something so grave that multiple realms wished him harm. But she had told him nothing—just that he’d died in an accident and she wasn’t willing to part with him yet. At the time that was a comfort to his heart, reassuring him that she loved him, but that warmth quickly withered to near nothingness when she promptly treated him with either disinterest or aptly hidden disdain.

He hoped they wouldn’t leave him down here forever. He’d never known of an Asgardian who starved to death, but he didn’t want to be the one that found out how long it took, and how excruciating it was. Maybe Thor would return soon and want for his company, or at least wish to verify his good health. Maybe he wouldn’t care. Loki looked up to Thor, he loved Thor, but something had happened which made Thor angry at him. Thor did not always like having Loki around, Loki knew that, and Thor’s friends rather hated Loki, he knew that too, but in private when no judging eyes were around, Thor was always kind to Loki. Not any longer, Loki thought ruefully. When he awoke from his reincarnation Thor had looked shocked and disbelieving. Loki had smiled at him and stepped forward to go to him, but Thor turned quickly away and left, letting the doors to Frigga’s private rooms slam shut. He had wanted to go after him, but Frigga commanded that he not. Since then he had tried to converse with Thor many times, but Thor pointedly ignored him, or was cold to him, or patronizing. After some months of this he had attempted once more to talk with Thor while he was surveying a plot of land outside the city. He had asked his brother a handful of questions about what he was doing, but Thor ignored him, so he asked about sparring, and a campaign he’d heard mentioned in the halls, but again he was ignored. Thor stood from his kneeling position on the ground and made to walk away without even looking in Loki’s direction.

“Wait!” Loki called after him.

“Go back to your rooms, Loki.” Thor’s voice had sounded vexed. Loki internally chastised himself for being too pushy, only he just wanted to talk with him, why was Thor acting so strange? No one was around, none of his comrades, neither family, nor villagers, no one to judge Thor for appeasing Loki’s want for company.

Thor made to walk away again so Loki reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder to better get his attention. Thor went rigid, Loki’s stomach plummeted. Before he even had time to remove the offending appendage Thor whirled around, knocking the hand off his shoulder, and backhanded Loki across the face. Loki’s jaw snapped against his shoulder; he could taste blood. He’d landed on his back in the grass, Thor looming above him. The elder stared down at him but Loki couldn’t bring his gaze upward, a cold, strangling fear wrapped around his guts. His breathing quickened and his eyes pricked and blurred. Thor took a step toward him, but before he could take another Loki was scrambling backward to his feet and running away.

He had made a point not to bother Thor too much after that.

He hoped Thor’s anger with him would lessen while apart, if only just to instill a general curiosity for Loki’s well being while in the care of his Midgardian friends that would hopefully prompt Thor to check on him, to want to see him, and make sure he was not dead. Loki feared being left down here for very much longer, he didn’t like the dark, he found himself irrationally afraid of it after waking, though he wasn’t sure why. He tried to call to Thor with his mind as they had done when children, but his magic was gone, and his mind was bereft of Thor’s presence.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two days late, my bad, my sister is in town.

Steve exited the elevator and dropped his bags on the floor; he’d deal with them later. He’d been gone two weeks, almost three, and he worried about the teammates who had not been on the mission with him, which was most of them. He’d left Tony in charge, and he trusted Tony, he did, but Tony was not good at the emotional support side of being a team leader. He worried about Wanda especially, she was always questioning herself—vulnerable. And now he had a young Loki living in the compound, brought back to life, if one can believe it, by his grieving mother. He didn’t even want to _think_ about the emotional turmoil that surely would come along with someone like Loki. When Thor had arrived with his younger brother, Steve was meant to depart that same evening with Natasha and Sam, so he hadn’t had the time to talk to Loki in private, touch base and see what he remembered, maybe get a feeling for his attitude toward his current situation. He’d left Tony in charge of Loki, which nagged at the back of his mind like a blinking fluorescent light flashing ‘ _what the hell are you thinking?’_ but he didn’t really have another choice. 

The mission had helped to take his mind of responsibilities at home, but now that he _was_ home the stress was enveloping around his conscience, the uncomfortable weight of worry tangling in his stomach. He couldn’t help but fret over the impending debriefing meeting he was going to hold later with the team, surely _something_ had inevitably gone wrong, there was always _something._ Last time he left for more than a couple days Wanda had gotten into a fight with a young woman from the X-Force, and in her unchecked rage had let her magic attack the other girls mind briefly. No damage was done, thankfully, but the girl was sick with nausea for several days, vomiting if she so much as turned her head. 

“Moms home!” Tony said in a singsong voice as he exited the kitchen, a towel over his shoulder, and a lopsided grin on his face. Steve rolled his eyes but could do nothing about the affectionate twitch of his own mouth resisting a corresponding smile. 

Bruce exited the kitchen behind Tony, giving Steve a short wave, mouthing a greeting before returning to the kitchen, a finger hooked in Tony’s back pocket, dragging him along behind him. Apparently, they were cooking dinner, something Bruce loved doing, and Tony absolutely abhorred. 

Steve dragged his bags further into the room out of the way. “I didn’t know you were back in-country, Bruce.” 

“For now, yeah, just got back,” Bruce said at the same time that Tony said: “I begged him to come back, there were tears.” 

“And snot,” Bruce added. 

Steve huffed a laugh, stretching his arms over his head and arching his back until he heard several satisfying cracks and pops. 

“Poke for dinner, the fish is from Clint!” Bruce said from the kitchen, the sound of metal utensils scraping the bottom of a metal bowl echoed after him. “I guess he had a couple days leave from SHIELD so he and some acquaintance of his went fishing down in Alabama or something.” 

“People ocean fish in Alabama?” Tony asked, hopping up on the counter to sit beside Bruce as he mixed something in a bowl. 

Steve walked over and leaned on the kitchen island across from where they were preparing the food. “There’s an ocean there, so ocean fishing seems like it would be something done there.” Steve smiled teasingly at Tony who rolled his eyes. 

“I know there’s a fucking ocean, just I mean—no one thinks ‘ _oh hey, I_ _wanna_ _go fish in the ocean, lets skip Hawaii, California, and Alaska, and hit up Orange Beach Alabama’_. That seems like a weird place to choose to fish if you have the choice of going anywhere.” 

Bruce shrugged. “Maybe his friend lived in Alabama and has a boat there, then it would make sense.” 

Tony pursed his lips contemplatively and plucked a piece of avocado out of the bowl, popping it into his mouth. “You and your sound logic can fuck right the fuck off.” 

Bruce smirked. 

“Your language is extra colorful today,” Steve observed. 

Tony shrugged, plucking another piece of avocado out of the bowl. “I’m irritable lately.” 

Steve nodded, swiping a hand across his face tiredly. “I bet. Will you grab me a bottle of water?” He asked. Tony walked over to the fridge to get a bottle. “How’s Wanda been? Is she here or at Xavier’s?” 

Tony tossed Steve the bottle. “No, she’s here somewhere I think, though she was over there more than here while you were gone. I don’t think she enjoys having me as an authority.” 

Steve laughed into the bottle before taking several gulps. “And Loki?” he asked, twisting the cap back on the bottle. 

Bruce, who was sprinkling salt on the dish, stopped and looked up at Steve, a confused frown creasing his expression. Surely someone had told Bruce that Loki was staying here. In fact, no one should have had to, wouldn’t he have seen the guy by now? Steve looked from Bruce’s face to Tony’s. Where Bruce looked confused and concerned, Tony looked panicked and guilty. 

“Tony…” Steve’s voice was low. There was no warning in it yet, it was only an inquiry at this point, but Steve felt the worry heavy in his gut, pinching. Maybe it’s not what it looks like, he thought, but it was a foolish notion and he knew it. 

Tony didn’t answer him. He wouldn’t even look at Steve, his fingers were twiddling nervously with the sleeves of his shirt. Now both Steve and Bruce were watching Tony, waiting for two different explanations. Steve was jealous of Bruce’s ignorance because it meant he was only standing there wondering what he meant by asking what Loki was up to. Steve however was worried Loki was dead and Tony had killed him or was covering up for someone who killed him. 

“Has Thor been back?” He decided to ask instead, putting off the harder question for just a second. 

Tony cleared his throat and shook his head, still refusing to look up from his hands. 

“Tony, where’s Loki?” Steve asked nervously. 

“He’s in a secure room, like you asked.” 

“Loki’s here?” Bruce all but whispered, but neither man acknowledged him. 

Steve stood from his slouched position against the counter, his eyes boring holes into Tony. “Where is Loki?” he asked again. 

Tony crossed his arms defensively, finally looking up at Steve. “He’s in a sec—” 

“Goddamnit, Tony, where is… show me,” he corrected himself, exasperated by the little show Tony was trying to put on to cover his tracks. God, he hoped there were no tracks to cover, at least none that truly mattered. “Now… show me now, Tony, where is Loki?” 

Tony shrugged again, his gaze dropping from Steve’s penetrating stare. “He’s downstairs.” 

“Downstairs…? Where? With who?” Steve’s voice was getting louder, more firm, but he wasn’t yelling, not yet anyway. 

Tony shrugged noncommittedly. “Downstairs.” He cleared his throat nervously and swallowed hard. “ _Downstairs,_ Downstairs.” Tony tried to look at Steve but he couldn’t, his eyes dropped again and he took a seemingly unconscious step toward Bruce. 

Steve breathed in through his nose, teeth clenched hard. “Downstairs as in the holding cells? That downstairs?” His voice was low again, threatening. How could Tony do this? Whether they liked Loki or not they had promised Thor they would shelter his brother, and more importantly, this wasn’t the same Loki who had attacked New York. Tony might as well have put a total stranger from off the street in a holding cell for two weeks. Two weeks… shit. Loki had been in that cell, presumably, for the entire duration that Steve had been gone. 

“Tony there’s nothing down there, those rooms are empty, there are no chairs, no beds, nothing, they’re just empty holding cells.” He could feel himself getting angrier. His stomach ached with guilt, it pulled at his intestines and squeezed them. For all his guilt and worry Tony seemingly felt nothing of the sort. He only shrugged again and nodded as if to say he knew that, and he didn’t care. Steve huffed a mirthless laugh. “You didn’t actually put him down, there did you?” 

Tony shrugged again and Steve thought for a second that if he shrugged one more time that he’d punch him in the mouth. “Maybe I did, who gives a shit, it’s Loki.” He looked up at Steve briefly 

Steve’s jaw dropped. “This Loki doesn’t know anything about New York. You were there when Thor explained this!” Steve took a step toward Tony but before he could do more, and before Tony could step back, Bruce was holding up his hands placatingly, eyes wide and brow raised with concern and inquiry. 

“Hey, wait, wait, Loki is here in the tower? Loki, Loki? Thor’s brother Loki? Why?” 

Steve grit his teeth and sighed, running a hand down his face. “I’ll explain later. What cell is he in?” 

Tony didn’t answer. 

“Tony, goddamnit, what ce…” 

Tony threw up his hands in surrender. “A3! Jesus, chill out, it’s just Loki.” 

Steve shook his head warningly. “Who was bringing him food? Has anyone checked on him? I can’t believe you put him down there.” Steve seethed, rifling through one of his bags for his phone. Tony didn’t answer. Steve’s hand halted, mind screeching to a stop. “Tony,” he said slowly without turning around. “Who was bringing him food?” No answer. He was sure he could hear one of them audibly swallowing from behind him, that’s how quiet the room had gotten. Steven consciously slowed his breathing and turned around. Tony was looking at the ground, worrying the carpet with his shoe, chewing at the inside of his lip. “Tony… who was bringing Loki food and water? Clothes? Anything? Who was checking on him?” 

Again, Tony didn’t answer. 

Now even Bruce was looking at Tony with clear shock on his face, which was saying a great deal since the two were close friends and nearly inseparable when Bruce was in town. Steve squeezed his eyes shut. “Tony…” 

“No one!” The admission burst out of Tony. Bruce’s jaw dropped. 

Steve cursed under his breath and ran for the stairs, forgoing the elevator entirely. How could he have been so stupid as to leave someone who hated Loki in charge of Loki? At the time he’d justified to himself that Tony understood that this Loki was not the same Loki, this Loki didn’t attack New York, didn’t throw Tony through a window and off his building, didn’t create the situation wherein Tony went through a portal into space, wasn’t responsible for dozens of deaths. Steve didn’t understand how time worked in Asgard, how it differed from Earth, or the comparative ratio between the two, but this Loki, the one Tony had locked in a bare cell with no food for almost a month, was a young innocent version of Loki who had no idea why he was just locked in a cell without food or a bed. One day he was with his brother, and the next he was a prisoner in horrible circumstances and had no idea why. Thinking on it more and more as he ran quickly down the stairs only served to make him feel sicker. 

Finally, he reached the bottom landing, pulled out his security clearance card and hurriedly swiped it in front of the key panel by the door handle. The door audibly clicked, and Steve threw it open so hard the doorknob cracked into the wall behind it. A3 was the second door on the right, Steve slid the key, the door unlocked, and he carefully pushed it open, unsure where Loki was seated inside. The light was off, which seemed unnecessary, but being as the switch was on the outside of the cell, and there was no way to turn it on or off from the inside, Steve presumed it had been off the entire time. His anger toward Tony surged once more. He wondered how Tony could have stomached walking away. How he could have stomached knowing he put Loki down here and never came back to give him food or water, that he’d just left him alone in the dark. It made Steve feel sick for more than a few reasons. 

“Loki?” he called from the door, making sure his voice was soft. There was no sound. He wanted to avoid turning the cell light on if it had been off this entire time, he could only imagine how painful that would be for Loki. The light from the hall illuminated the center of the cell, but it didn’t reveal where the younger Odinson was hiding. “Loki, buddy, are you ok?” Still no answer. 

Steve pulled out his phone and turned the flashlight on the lowest setting, flashing it into the room and hoping it wasn’t too bright. He found Loki on the first try, he was curled up in the corner, head tucked into his shirt, knees drawn up. “Loki?” he tried again, but he didn’t move. “Hey, bud, are you ok? I’m sorry you were put down here, that shouldn’t have happened.” Still nothing. “Loki?” he asked one last time. 

He was loath to enter the cell. He’d just reamed Tony about how this wasn’t the same Loki, this Loki wasn’t dangerous, but his instincts didn’t understand that and they still pulled at him to stay clear, to have backup. But he didn’t have time for backup. 

Cautiously he stepped into the room, slowly moving forward, flashlight in hand until he was in front of Loki. Curled up like this Loki looked small like a child. Steve bent over and wrested a hand on Loki’s shoulder. Even through the cloth Steve could tell his skin was freezing, though he wasn’t shivering. A knot formed in Steve’s stomach when the intrusive thought that this may be a corpse entered his mind. He probably would not admit later that tears pricked at his eyes in this moment, but just the idea that a prisoner had been locked in a cold, dark cell and starved to death in Avenger’s Compound made him feel sick and horribly morose.

“Shit,” he cursed under his breath before kneeling, setting the phone on the ground, flashlight upward. Please don’t be dead, he thought. He found his subconscious chanting ‘ _find a pulse, find a pulse, find a pulse’_ when he reached forward to slide his hand under Loki’s chin which was tucked into his shirt. But he didn’t need a pulse because inside his shirt was warm, or warmer than outside, and moreover, he could feel shallow warm breath against his hand. Steve sat back on his heels, a desperate sob escaping his throat. “Oh, thank god.” 

Now knowing Loki to be alive he reached for either shoulder and began maneuvering him away from the wall so that he could pick him up and carry him to the infirmary. When he got him securely in his arms Loki’s head lulled against Steve’s shoulder. He was a lot lighter than Steve anticipated. Thor was remarkably heavy and he had only assumed Loki would be too, but he was easy to carry—the last two and half weeks of starvation couldn’t have helped. 

This time he did take the elevator, afraid the stairs would jostle Loki too much. When he made it upstairs, he was ever grateful for Bruce’s ability to be objective, because the man already had the infirmary prepped and was sitting there waiting. “Friday said you were coming up with him and he was unconscious, so I figured…” he trailed off, gesturing to the room at large. 

“Thank you.” 

Steve set Loki down on the bed. He almost asked where Tony was but quickly decided he didn’t care. With Loki’s body prone and exposed he could see how ill he looked. The man’s skin was gray, around his mouth and eyes was a concerning purple, his lip was split, and dried blood covered his mouth and nose and dried in streaks down his neck. Apparently, Tony had done a little more than imprison and starve him. Loki was already a slight fellow, but Steve could only imagine he looked even worse now after several weeks without food and water.

“I’m gonna set up IV fluids; get some water and electrolytes into him. After that if he wakes up, he’ll need nutrition, but I don’t know what his body will handle. A human would need to be on a liquid diet for at least a month, but him?” Bruce shrugged.

“Do what you gotta do.” Steve chewed the inside of his cheek anxiously, unable to tear his eyes away from the hollow, discolored face that lay unconscious before him. Tony may have done this, but it was Steve’s fault. He was the team’s leader and Loki had ultimately been his responsibility. His mission hadn’t been a silent one, he could have texted anyone in the tower and asked them how Loki was, and he hadn’t.

Steve reached down and took Loki’s hand in his, squeezing it gently, as if sending a silent prayer to Loki to get better, and that he was sorry. He shouldn’t have left him alone. Had this been old criminal Loki he would have felt bad about this, but for this to be young innocent Loki made his stomach tighten painfully until he felt sick.

Bruce patted his shoulder sympathetically before going back to work, pushing Loki’s sleeve up to administer the pick line for the IV. The fine skin on his underarm was almost translucent, the blue veins standing out prominently.

“Where’d Tony go?”

“Maybe you should leave it for now.” Bruce’s voice sounded cautious. Steve couldn’t help but feel a little betrayed by him protecting Tony. It’s not as if Steve was going to hurt Tony, for Christ’s sake, but Tony messed up here, he messed up bad, and he almost killed someone.

“Someone needs to talk to him,” Steve muttered from behind his hands which scrubbed at his face tiredly before running threw his hair and wresting for a moment at the back of his head, fingers clasped together loosely. His hands dropped heavily at his side. “He didn’t do it on purpose, right?” his voice was quiet, made mostly of desperation and hope that something had been misinterpreted.

Bruce hung the IV beside the bed but didn’t look back at Steve when he was done. His head drooped a little, eyes watching his hands fidget nervously with each other, twisting a piece of medical adhesive tape between his fingers. Steve heard him sigh, watched his shoulders rise and fall slowly in a noncommittal shrug.

“I don’t… I hope not.” Bruce shook his head. “Tony has his faults, you know, but I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t have thought… I don’t know.” Bruce struggled.

Tony was eccentric, and Tony had his flaws, but to believe he did this was weighing heavily on Steve, and seemingly Bruce, too. But what other explanation was there? Tony had been left in charge of Loki. Tony had been the one to put Loki in that cell. Tony had been the one to choose not to bring Loki food or water. There was no one else to blame, as much as Steve wished there were.

“I’m gonna have to talk to him, Bruce, whether it goes well or not.”

Bruce nodded but said nothing further.

“Sit with him, will you? I’ll come back and take over after… after I talk to him.” Bruce nodded again and sat down in the chair across the room. Steve let out a huff of breath through his nose, straightened his back, which twinged. With one last glance toward the corpse-like body on the medical bed, Steve left the room. The effort it took to look collected and reasonable in front of Bruce right now was no small feat.

There was no one in the lobby when he exited the medical bay, which he was thankful for because the second he shut the door he made a beeline for the bathroom, barely pushing open the door, and lifting the toilet lid in time for his stomach to heave violently into the bowl. His mind whirled with images of all the worse-case scenarios, playing rapidly in a loop, jumping from one image to another. What if Loki had been dead when he went down there? What if he still died? Maybe he found him alive, but maybe it wasn’t in time, maybe his body was shutting down already, maybe it wouldn’t respond to any of the medical procedures Bruce was exercising. What would he tell Thor? Could he let Tony take the fall for it? Tony had done it, sure, but Steve was their captain, Steve led the team, and the team, and everyone in the compound was Steve’s responsibility. Maybe Tony literally did the act, but maybe it was still Steve’s fault.

He needed to talk to Tony. A small flutter in his heart held hope that there was an explanation for this—that Tony hadn’t meant to all but murder Thor’s younger brother.

“FRIDAY…where’s Tony?”

“In his workshop, sir,” the feminine Scottish brogue replied.

Steve took a deep breath. “Thanks.”

**Author's Note:**

> For Tony fans, I'm sorry haha I promise Tony isn't evil, he's just--Tony. I created a mixture of comic and cinematic Tony, so he's not quite as void of empathy as comic tony is, but I made him less "aware" than cinematic tony is. This first chapter may make you think he's evil but I promise he's not. The word "hyperfocus" might give you a hint--maybe not. For Clint, however, I love comic version of Clint, and I'm meh about cinematic version of Clint, and I genuinely do not know if I will actually make him a total trash bag or just temporarily make him a trash bag. I haven't finished writing the fic so it's anyone's guess.
> 
> You may be wondering if Loki being locked in the cell will be the worst of his Midgardian experiences and the answer to that question is *drumroll* absolutely not, it's going to get so much worse but likely not in any of the ways you anticipate lol it's nothing obvious, but it's still horrible and I've broken my own heart writing it lmao poor Loki, I'm gonna be so mean to him.
> 
> Additionally, I have two edited chapters written, the third is almost edited. I get distracted easily and have a lot going on in "real life" but I will try to be prompt about posting chapters. So far I am really into this story, I wrote the first three chapters in one night after mulling over the idea for several days. Basically I was reading Steve/Loki fics and thought "wow, what if it was so much worse for Loki?" and that's how I came up with this story. So essentially I'm just an asshole sadist and that's both the beginning and ending of my own story.


End file.
